


wildest dreams

by jessamoo



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:11:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessamoo/pseuds/jessamoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au where Tara never grew up in charming - she only goes there on a whim one day</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. teller or morrow

“So are you Teller or Morrow?”

She’s jostling along in the passenger seat of a clunky old pick up truck, getting blinded by the California sun fracturing through the window. Tara had rolled down the window a little but the dust from the road crept in and she’d closed it again.

So she’d been forced to sit in uncomfortable silence with the guy that was towing her cutlass to the garage. She stares sadly in the rear view mirror at her car.

She didn’t know why she was here.

She’d woken up that morning and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

For the first time in a while she didn’t want to go to work. She didn’t relish having her bed to herself. She just lay there, feeling nothing.

She couldn’t place what it was. But suddenly one day there was an emptiness that took root in her, a numbness in the pit of her stomach when she thought about her life. Her average, normal, boring life.

So she’d got in her car and drove. She just drove without knowing where she was going or why. And she’d ended up here, on the outskirts of a town called charming, with a car that was now out of gas.

Typical. The last bouts of impulsiveness had run out in her twenties when she stopped having one night stands and talked herself out of getting a tattoo when she was drunk. And the first time she tries doing something just for her own pleasure again she ended up stranded in some backwater desert town.

“Oh.” The man replied to her question with a grunt. “I’m neither.” He said simply. From the way his tattooed arms are gripping at the steering wheel it doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for talking.

Tara nods awkwardly and continues to stare out the window. She supposed it was kind of beautiful here. The landscape stretched on for miles. She was so used to feeling blocked in by buildings and cities and sickly hospital walls.

She jumped then when she hears the loud roaring of a motorbike engine, ripping through the idyllic quiet, smashing into the openness, travelling on the wind to her.

She peers up as several huge black motorbike pass in a blur. For a moment she thinks about how they must feel the wind on their faces, and she’s jealous.

“That.” The mechanic next to her said, pointing at the disappearing black dots on the horizon. “Is Teller and Morrow.”

Tara raises her eyebrows and slumps back in her seat, wondering what the hell she had just gotten herself into.

 

She tries to avoid everyone’s eyes.

She peers up from under her eyelashes appraisingly, looking around the parking lot, the motorbikes shining in the sunshine. 

Tara folds her arms across herself, guarding herself against the looks from the scantily clad women milling around. She flipped her hair haughtily, seeing some men staring at her too. 

She standing awkwardly as the mechanics examined her cutlass – it turns out it wasn’t just lack of gas that had halted her wanderlust fuelled jaunt into the desert.

She’s tapping her foot, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible, when she feels a pair of eyes on her.

When she glances up she sees a man sprawled out casually on a bench, staring at her. He had blonde hair that hung about his face like a halo, and bright blue eyes that look like they glittered, even from where she stood. Even in a baggy black hoodie and jeans, she could tell he was muscular just from the way he sat. It reminded her of a king on his throne, or a boxer at the side of the ring, readying to pounce.

The way he looked at her filled her with that strange, hollow kind of desire that you felt deep inside of you, down in the darkness of you. She hadn’t felt that primal stirring for a long time, if ever, and it made her pause. 

The man was staring unabashed, and she felt rather than anything else, herself staring back at him. Hard and challenging and with a startling kind of clarity. She felt then the emptiness fill up with the magnetic force of him. She wondered if it were possible that when she had opened her eyes this morning, this moment is what she had been missing.

But that was ridiculous. She might have been a romantic at heart, she might have appreciated beauty, however ferocious, but she was practical. And so she looked away shyly, turning to stare at her car again.

She sees him strolling over to her in its reflection, looming shape at the back of her, and she waits for him. 

When she turns slowly, clearing her throat awkwardly he smiles lazily at her.

“Hi.” She says quietly, crossing her arms again, trying not to look at him too much.

He apparently doesn’t have this same inclination because he keeps staring at her in the same way he had been before, only know there’s a crinkle round his eyes as he smiles appreciatively. She bet that smile could charm the devil himself.

“Jax teller.” He sticks his hand out and she shakes it warily, feeling the rings on his fingers against her own. His palms is warm and dry, strong and veined the way tough men's hands always were. 

“Doctor Knowles.” She says pointedly and he raises his eyebrows with a smirk.

She can’t think why she said it to him. To impress him, perhaps, though she didn’t think he was someone easily impressed. Maybe to be superior to him in some way, after the way he had levelled her with his eyes.

He strolls casually over to the nearby desk where she had written her details down on a clipboard.

“Tara.” He reads aloud, then turns and grins at her. “That’s a nice name. Nice car too.”

She bites her lip to keep from scoffing a little and just nods as he makes his way back over to her.

“So you’re a doctor, huh? You work up at saint Thomas?” he asks. The look on his face suddenly changed and he almost looked genuinely interested.

“And you’re persistent, apparently.” She says, but it’s only a half-hearted dodge of the conversation and they both know it. “No. I don’t work there, I’m not even from here, actually. My car decided to put out as I was driving through.”

“Well the car had good timing then.”

Tara chuckled sardonically. “Well that is yet to be determined.”

Jax bites his lip, considering before asking “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink. Help you…determine.”

Tara stilled, looking at him for a long moment, considering it. Hadn’t she been on the road that day searching for something? Searching for something unknown? Why not take the chances as they came? But a gruff looking motorbike gangbanger wasn’t exactly what she had imagined herself finding.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. She should get back in her car as soon as she could and go home. She was due to scrub in on an interesting surgery next week that she hadn’t done before. She should read up on that. Sit at home with a glass of wine.

“Look.” She sighs. “I don’t know exactly what type of girl you think I am but…”

Jax laughs then and he shrugs. “I really mean a drink. Come on, doc, it isn’t a marriage proposal. We got a bar right here.”

Tara points awkwardly at the club house he had nodded to. “You just let anyone in there?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Only when they’re as pretty as you.”

Tara lets out a loud laugh and he does too, and she thinks she sees a tinge of red on his cheeks. She’s about to reply with a joke when she’s interrupted by a loud shrieking.

She barely has time to take in the scene before her – the van skidding through the parking lot, a mass of men all moving at once, the glinting of guns – before she’s slammed into with enough force to knock the breath from her.

Jax is pinning her down, the whole weight of his spread out on top of her, shielding her. She stares up at the ceiling and understands, listening, to the sound of bullets tearing their deadly paths through the world. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, Jax smells faintly of leather and alcohol and his hair tickles her cheek. When she opens her eyes again she turns her head slightly and stares at the sky, the blinding whiteness of it. The calmness of the clouds is a far better option than the chaos on the earth.

“Stay here!” Jax growls and she feels the vibration in her chest.

Then his weight is gone as he shoves himself roughly away from her and disappears into the fray.

Tara feels her panic breaths choking her, loud and sharp as her lungs cry out for air, and she shoves herself up into a sitting position, scuffling as far back as she can against the car behind her.

She sees Jax thundering forward as the van skids away and realises through the haze that one of the shooters had been caught somehow. He was on his knees surrounded by Jax’s men – the sons of anarchy, she had read on the sign above their club house with a derisive snort – and he was bleeding.

She had seen blood before, she was a doctor. But she had never been shot at before. She’d never felt her heart screaming inside of her like that. She was torn between analysing his wounds and how she would treat them, and a boiling anger that made her fingertips twitch.

Jax pulls his arm back and she realises he has a gun in his hand which he slams down on the man’s face with a sickening crunch. Tara flinches at the sound.

She watches them all argue for several minutes, and it’s like the whole world is watching them too. Everything feels still. 

And she understands now why she had thought that Jax was ferociously beautiful. Because he was. He was a mountain of a man, leonine and fanatical in his fury. She could see it burn behind his eyes as he looked down at the man. It should have scared her, it did in some small way, but mostly it fascinated her. She had never seen someone house a storm inside of them. It was like lightening bouncing around in a jar.

One of the sons, an older man with scars on his face, turned Jax away from the shooter on the floor, presumably trying to reason with him. But the man on the floor calls something to him and whatever it was wasn’t good. She can tell by the way the son behind his cuffs his head and Jax pauses.

Then, suddenly, he looks right at her. She’s cowering on the floor, gaping at the spectacle, the unreal horror show of violence, and he’s just looking at her, blood all over the ground underneath his feet.

Then without warning, he turns around and shoots the man in the head.

Tara muffles her scream, pressing both hands to her mouth in sickening distress. The sons berate Jax but he isn’t listening to them. He just stalks over to her, a determined scowl on his face. 

She sees the blood spatter on his face and somehow it makes his eyes look all the more blue.

But that doesn’t matter as she sees the gun in his hand. She tries to scamper away from him, sure he isn’t going to let her live now she’s seen him kill someone, but he grabs her roughly by the arm and drags her up easily.

She tries to shove him away from her with a cry but he holds her there.

“Let go of me!” she snaps. “Let go. I won’t, I won’t tell anyone just, please.” She rushes, trying to keep her voice calm, not daring to look at him. “I have a life, I help people I-“

Jax grabs her face in his hand, his fingers digging into her cheeks roughly, forcing her to be quiet as he holds her face up close to his. He’s breathing heavily and she can smell the blood coating his skin.

His bright eyes search her face for a long moment and somehow something he sees there must convince him because she feels his fingers slacken. He’s still holding her face, but it’s like a lover would, his fingers moving lightly across her skin. The casual intimacy of it staggers her and all she can do is try to catch her breath as she stares up at him.

“Let me take you home.” He says quietly.

“What?” she cries emotionally. “So you can pull over half way and put a bullet in my head too? No thank you.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” he states firmly.

“I don’t believe you.” She hisses, and she didn’t. Despite the way he had looked at her, like they were long lost lovers, despite the way he had joked with her, she knew that he had a tremendous capacity for violence, and probably even against those he cared about. She had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to kill a stranger he’d only just met. “You’re insane. You are all insane.” She cries, tugging herself out of his grip finally.

Even as she backs away from him she can still feel the places his fingers had pressed into her, like they had changed the very shape of her.

Jax moves his arm and she flinches reflexively, seeing the movement of the gun. He softens when he sees it and holds his free hand up to calm her down. Jax flips the gun in his hand, holding it out to her so that barrel is pointed at him.

She looks down at it warily, readying herself to run at any moment.

“To prove I won’t hurt you.” he says earnestly.

“I don’t…I don’t want that, I don’t want to even…” she shakes her head. She turns but then sees the pool of blood on the floor and turns back, feeling trapped.

“Jax! We don’t have time for this bullshit.” The man with the scars barked in a thick Scottish accent.

“If you don’t wanna do it, I will.” A low voice said and she whipped round to see a bald, tattooed man drawing a gun.

“No!” Jax shouted firmly as Tara began to feel heavy tears on her cheek. “Tara, I’m going to take you to a motel and then you can get the hell out of here as soon as your car is done.”

“Jax, she just saw you shoot someone in the head.” One of the men said dryly and Jax glared at him.

“Boys, either way you’re going to want to get her out of here. Clay is back.”

Tara peered around Jax to the female voice who had spoken. It was Gemma, the woman who had come to take her details in the office. She turned to whoever she was talking about, and Tara only just had time to see yet another motorbike pulling into the lot when Jax grabbed her arm again and began steering her away.

“Look, if you wanna leave this town alive then I suggest you just get on the fucking bike.” Jax hisses to her in a whisper, eyeing whoever had just arrived over his shoulder warily.

She sighed and paused just once more as they reached his bike.

“Doctor Knowles.” He sweeps his arm out sarcastically and she glares at him, climbing onto the back. When jax hands her a helmet, she almost wants to laugh. The idea that he was putting her safety first, the idea that safety was even a concept that existed in a place where men were shot in the head on a whim, was absurd to her. 

 

As the motorbike chugs beneath her Tara clings to Jax tightly, her arms round his waist. Despite the fact she’s never been on a motorbike before and she still felt like her world had been turned upside down somehow, the feel of his strong back against her front made her feel safe. And despite everything that had just happened she began to relax as the ride went on, liking the wind on her face like she knew she would.

A part of her wants to spread her arms out as the zoom by, she wants to lean back and feel what it’s like to fly. She wants to find that elusive thing she had been searching for, before all this. She wants to feel something that can anchor her in a single moment.

But when she closes her eyes she sees the man being shot. Then to her surprise it fades into when Jax was right next to her, when he was holding her face tightly, staring into her eyes like he saw a whole world in there.

 

When they finally come to a stop in front of a shabby looking motel she climbs off unsteadily and her whole body is tingling. But it doesn’t feel like it’s with anger, like before. Or with fear, not any more. That had somehow been swept away with the dust they stirred up. It’s from excitement. Panicked, scared excitement.

“I’m sorry about what you saw today.” Jax says to her sincerely, though he doesn’t seem to be so bothered about having killed someone. She wonders if it’s because of experience. “I won’t let any of my guys hurt you, but you can’t say anything. Not to anyone.”

“Do I look stupid?” she asks raising her eyebrow as she takes the helmet off.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Why do you believe me? That I won’t say anything, I mean. You don’t seem like the kind of person that would trust someone easily.”

He sighs and looks away from her, surveying the street almost sadly.

“I don’t. But I guess I want to. I miss being able to trust people…I guess when you’re in the club long enough you forget there’s a world outside of it. Or just don’t care. Either way, you get lost.” He glances back to her seriously. “When I looked in your eyes…I saw someone who wasn’t part of the world I am. And I wanted to make sure that we didn’t lose someone else to it.”

“You sound like you don’t want to be lost there any more.” She says quietly.

Jax clears his throat. “It’s the only place I know I belong. Whether I want to or not doesn’t come in to it.”

“Maybe we don’t all just belong in one place. I don’t belong here, but something brought me here just the same, right?”

“Your beat up car brought you here.” Jax sighs and smiles, seemingly shrugging of all traces of sadness in an instant. “So, last chance to get that drink.” He grins at her. “After today I’m going to say you need it.”

Tara bites her lip and shakes her head. She did need it, if she was honest, but she knew that once she said yes she would be walking into something that it might be hard to get out of. Something about Jax’s intensity, something about his rage and his fire, about the way he held himself even. She could imagine that he wasn’t someone you just had a one night stand with. She wanted something to fill up the emptiness, but if she let him in like she wanted to, she might drown with the weight of it.

Jax nods his acceptance easily and bids her goodbye, his bike jumping to life again, taking him away before she really understands he’s leaving. She’s about to call out to him but he’s too far away – but only then does she realise she’s still holding his helmet in her hands.


	2. Abel

The next day she picks up her cutlass in the morning. The lot is empty then, save for a few mechanics that actually seem to be mechanics, and ot part of some criminal organization.   
But she can still see the blood stains on the ground. She can still see where she had been made to feel so frightened. And when she looks up at the sky, its the same as before. She can almost feel Jax's body pressed against hers, like a phantom limb almost, and she shudders at the physical realness of it.

Tara hadn't planned on staying.

She had planned on driving back home, back to her normal life. To the terrible hospital coffee, long nights on call. To the batty old neighbour who still asked after the nice detective she was dating - they had broken up two years ago and he had been the very opposite of nice.

But for some reason, when she gets in her car, she can't do it. It all feels so far away. The same unknown urge that had pulled her away now kept her here.

She drives around town aimlessly for a while instead. She buys some cheap spare clothes and something she hadn't bought for a long time.

She bought a sketchpad. It wasn't her favourite artistic outlet, but she wasn't about to invest in a canvas and paints for her tiny motel room. She was finding something new here, but it didn't feel entirely like home.

She draws all morning after that, sat cross legged on the bed. She hasn't done this for a long time. She used to love it, but somewhere along the way she had just stopped. She'd stopped really knowing what she was interested in, stopped knowing what she enjoyed, stopped knowing what made her special. She had lost parts of herself without realising, and she had began to wonder who she was. But as the charcoal coated her fingers, she knew once again that this was something. This was something she could say was a part of her. A tangible, real part of the person she was. It was a start.

The helmet sits on the bedside table, calling to her. She glances at it with narrowed eyes every so often and can't shake her awareness of it. She should have just left it at the front desk in case Jax came to get it, then she wouldn't have to see him.

But she didn't and she knew why. The truth was she couldn't imagine not seeing him again. Everything felt so sudden and wild, he had been a storm blowing through her life that she could see no end to.

Sure, she was smart and practical. She was kind but didn't take bullshit. But she saw something in the way he looked at her, like she was real and whole, and she couldn't help but need that feeling. She tried not to think about him, but she realises all the faces in her drawings are his.

 

She almost turns and leaves, her hand hovering in mid-air in front of his door. But then it's like something inside her stirs and her hand knocks of its own accord.

After a small scuffling sound inside the door swings open.

"Who the hell are you?" Gemma asks, leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed and jaw set.

Tara opens her mouth to speak but right at that moment Gemma notices the helmet and recognition flickers across her face. She looks down at her disbelievingly before pursing her lips and stepping out the house - forcing Tara to take a step back so she doesn't crash straight into her.

"What are you doing here?"

Tara holds up the helmet awkwardly. "I'm not here to cause trouble, if that's what you think. I'm just here to return this to Jax...Is he here?" Tara asks pointedly. She knows full well he is here, his bike is gleaming right next to them in the doorway. But she wanted to see what Gemma was going to say. She didn't like anyone trying to intimidate her and she wanted to know who she was.

But Gemma was smart too. She holds her hand out expectantly. "I'll give it to him." She states simply.

Tara grips the helmet a little tighter, a stoic, knowing look on her face.

"I'd rather give it to him myself."

"I bet you would." Gemma mutters. Seeing Tara's resilience she rolls her eyes, dropping the pretence of civility. She steps even closer into her personal space - apparently lack of boundaries was Teller family trait. Tara stared right back at her with barely disguised panic, trying to keep her composure.

"Listen sweetheart." Gemma says in a low voice. "I don't know if you're screwed up enough to want to be an old lady in this club or if you're just some pathetic, lonely city girl looking to get her kicks by fucking a biker - and frankly I don't give a shit. But either way you are messing in places you don't belong. Dangerous places. So my advice to you," Her voice took on an almost motherly tone. "Get out while you still have a chance. Don't start something you can't handle."

Tara finds herself blushing a little. She didn't really know which one of those things she was either. Both seemed plausible, even to her. She didn't know if she was either one, but why else would she still be here? And what if Jax saw that in her too?

But all she knew was that his stare had stirred up the dust that coated her bones.

She could do this, whatever this was. She didn't feel so blind as to not see when she had to get out, and when that time came she would make sure she was able to. But now was not that time.

Before she can explain that she understood the risks - bloodstains were etched into the back of her eyes - a shape appears in the doorway behind them.

"Everything OK out here?"

At the sound of Jax's voice Gemma pauses before stepping back slowly, her eyes full of warning.

When he sees Tara, he smiles. "Hey."

She holds the helmet up. "Thought you might want this back. Heard motorbikes can be pretty dangerous." She grins.

Gemma rolls her eyes and starts back inside. She whispers something to Jax as she passes him.

"I don't think she likes me." Tara says once Gemma has disappeared.

"She doesn't like anyone. Why don't you come in?" Jax steps back to let her pass - but he's stood in the doorway. She has to press herself right against him as she goes. He just grins down at her, a teasing leer and she just shakes her head.

 

He had a surprisingly normal house. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but it makes him more real somehow, more human. Until she looks a little closer, that is.

She examines the walls and finds them mostly empty, save for a few family photo's, pictures of a cute little baby with Jax's eyes. The house is lacking in something homely, something feminine.

When she rounds a corner, Jax behind her, she is distracted by a noise.

As she peers into the living room to investigate she sees what had caught her attention. 

A little boy, about five years old, was sat playing with an array of small plastic cars and motorbikes. 

Tara gasps with a smile, turning to Jax. "Who is this?" She asks excitedly. 

Jax grins moving past her to crouch on the floor. "This is my son, Abel." He explains.

Tara softens as she watches Jax start to play with the toys too. Abel doesn't seem to even acknowledge him however.

"Abel, I want you to meet a friend of mine." Jax says, still stirring no apparent recognition in Abel. "Her name is Tara."

Tara slowly crouches with them, setting her bag down carefully as Gemma glares daggers at her from the adjoining kitchen.

Abel barely looks at her even when she smiles warmly at him. 

"Hello Abel." She says and his eyes finally flick warily up to hers from under long eyelashes.

"He's quiet." Jax sighs. "Doesn't really like new people. Isn't used to it."

Tara nods and she's about to reply when Abel snaps his head back up, his eyes narrowed at her.

"Do you ride a bike too?" He asks a little accusingly.

When he sees Tara smile and shake her head he relaxes, as if pleased with the answer.

"Actually I'm a doctor." Tara says. "See?" She asks, turning to pull the stethoscope she kept in her bag out, handing it to him. Abel had watched her every move but now he takes the stethoscope interestedly, looking up at her for guidance.

"It's a stethoscope." She explains gently as his little fingers fiddle with it. "It lets you listen to your heartbeat. Do you wanna try?"

Abel nods shyly as she takes it from his hands, placing the buds carefully in his ears and holding one there. His eyes grow a little wider when he hears his heartbeat. They pause like that for a moment until he promptly takes her hand, holding the metal against her chest instead.

"Pretty cool right?" She asks as he listens to the steady thud of her heart, and he gives her the tiniest of nods.

Throughout this whole exchange Jax had sat back and watched earnestly. He seemed genuinely surprised that she had been able to get his son to interact with her at all, never mind so quickly as she had.

He motions to her, touching her arm lightly to pull her up and back to the hall where she had first seen Abel.

"He's never normally like that. So open I mean." Jax shakes his head in disbelief.

Tara bit her lip. To her Abel hadn't been open at at all, rather surprisingly guarded and wary for a child. He seemed suspicious and careful. No, he was not open. It made her wonder what he was normally like.

"He was born with a heart condition. They tried to fix most of it but...it stops him from playing with other kids, and he doesn't have any siblings. He gets frustrated, I think..."

"Where's his mother?" Tara asks carefully.

Jax sighed and shifted a little uncomfortably, not quite meeting her eye. "It's a little complicated." He says. "But she isn't really around any more."

Tara looks back at Abel sympathetically. It was hard for a child, especially one so young, to grow up without a mother. She understood now why the house felt so lacking in life and energy. Because it was just Jax and Abel - And Gemma, she supposed, but even she couldn't fill the hole a mother left. Even with her Tara doubted Abel lived in a stable environment. She liked Jax, and she could see in his eyes that he loved his son. But she had seen him kill someone. She had no doubt that the kind of things he did affected his home life in some way, whether he knew it or not. Tara thinks about how Abel's voice had been when he asked her if she rode a bike. Children were perceptive and she had a strong suspicion that it wasn't just shyness, or his heart, that kept him guarded.

"You're good with him though." Jax carries on. "He likes you."

Gemma tapped her foot, being able to hear them, but she didn't say anything. Apparently even she had to admit that somehow Tara had helped Abel make some progress, however small, even in the tiny amount of time she spent with him.

"Come on." He smiles then, as if forgetting all about what they had just been talking about. "We're going for a ride."

Tara blanches a little in surprise as Jax leans over and calls "See you later buddy!" to Abel.

He turns away but she watches Abel scramble up when he hears his voice. He runs over clumsily, but he doesn't dive for Jax as she expected. Instead he comes crashing into her, wrapping his little arms around her leg, hugging her tightly. 

She chuckles softly and crouches down in front of him.

"Will you come back?" he whispers to her, as if it's a secret.

Tara hesitates and glances up at Jax who nods at her.

"Of course." She says firmly, looking back to Abel with a smile. "I have to come back and see you again, don't I?" She grins.

Abel hugs her, his arm around her neck and she hugs him back gently. As he runs off again, Jax shakes his head.

"I can't remember the last time he did that." He says quietly, and she hears the sadness in his voice.


	3. the darkness

They ride for a long time.

Tara feels like they own the road, speeding through quickly where cars have to wait behind one another. It's freeing, it places them outside the world. It's like everything they do only belongs to them, like she can do whatever she wanted.

They walk through a park together, talking. They do this for hours, though it's Tara that does most of the talking, Laying on the grass until it starts to get cold. She finds herself telling Jax all about her life and for some reason it doesn't sound that bad as she recounts it. It sounds charming, almost. Not crazy, nothing like his, but better for it. She wonders why she didn't feel that way when she was back home. She tells him about being a doctor, the problems she had had with her father growing up, how she had broken up with her ex boyfriend - the not nice cop - after he had slapped her once during an argument. When she tells him this is face darkens into a small scowl. She has to admit she still finds it strange. Jax is a bundle of contradictions. He could kill someone, contemplate killing her, and yet now he seemed angry at the thought someone would hit her. If she wasn't so aware of how dangerous he was she might have dared to say he felt protective of her now.

The next time they go out he tells her about Abel - or more specifically, about his mother. Wendy, who had sad eyes. Wendy, who had a dirty laugh. Wendy who did drugs. Wendy who still breezed into town from time to time, and who despite this, Abel didn't recognise. 

But he's still holding out on her, she can tell. Whenever Tara mentions the club he changed the subject rather unsubtly. 

The time after that he gets a call half way through and has to leave, he drops her off haphazardly, not explaining, and doesn't call her for three days afterwords. When she sees him next there is a fresh cut above his eyebrow and he barely says a word to her.

That was the first time he kissed her. When she feels the broken desperation in the way his mouth claims hers roughly, his fingers pressing into her cheeks.

It's the first time, she realises, that she feels like the whole of him has been there with her. Even when he's being silent.

He keeps so much of himself back. He never talked about the club, about the things he did. She wonders if he feels shame about hurting people or shame for not caring at all.

 

"Why are you still here?"

The question feels like it comes out of nowhere, though it's been dancing around them for the last three weeks.

They were laying next to each other on her little motel bed as he flipped through her sketchbook interestedly, drinking scotch.

Tara sighed. "Sometimes I wonder that too."

Jax throws the book down wearily. "Then why not just go home?" He snaps and she raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Back to your own life? Why stay here? Why let Abel get attached?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She retorts.

"It means Abel loves you and he can't take another loss. And we both know you're going to leave sooner or later so why not now?" His tone is annoyed, like he's pushing for her to pack her bags right then and there.

"Are you sure this is just about Abel?" She starts and he shakes his head, ignoring her.

"You are not my girlfriend. Hell, we haven't even had sex. You're not my old lady and you sure as hell aren't Abel's mother. So why are you here?" He spits each word of the question, grinding them out angrily one by one.

Jax often had mood swings like this. Like he was half a person, torn between two worlds. He had never had anyone to teach him how to reconcile them.

"I thought we were getting to know each other." She replies haughtily.

"It's more than that." He says. "You saw me kill someone the first time we met and yet you still came to me."

And then she understands. He's trying to find out the answer of her, he's trying to decide who she is and who he'll allow them to be together, if anyone. He wants to find the darkness in her, rather than the normalcy that had drawn him to her. He wants to take hold of that darkness, wants to know if it's enough to keep her in that world, enough that she can belong there, with him. It was easier to bring other people into the darkness with you than let them take you into the light.

"I can't explain it..." She says. "I woke up one day and realised I didn't know who I was. I didn't understand how all the parts of who I am fit together." She frowns and he stills, listening to her. "And when I came here it was like you showed me those parts. Parts of me I had forgotten, parts of me I didn't know about...Take the man i saw you kill. When I thought about it that night I wanted to throw up...but the next morning, I suddenly realised how...alive I was still, and I understood why you killed him."

A small tear splashes onto her cheek and she wipes it away hastily, not meeting his eyes. "I wish I could make myself leave." She whispers. "But I can't yet. I still want to be here with you...I suppose because I know you need it. You need to find that world outside the club."

As she speaks he stiffens, watching her as she begins to lean closer to him.

"I just don't know why you keep letting it infect everything." She shakes her head at him, her eyes pleading and emotional as he clenches his jaw.

"It's not that I let it in, it's that it's always here. I never had anything outside of the club, I never had an anchor and I don't think I know how to. Not now."

Tara sighs and perches right in front of him. "Let me be that for you." She whispers.

And she finds that she really wants to. Not because she loves him - but because she could love him, some better version of him. She knew he needed out, but unlike her he didn't have the option of just driving off whenever he wanted.

And the fact she would do that for him scared her a little. She is scared that if she offered him a home in her arms he would hollow her out and live inside of her. She'd break open her bones to make a shelter for him because that's the kind of man he was.

But she sees the desperation in his eyes. Sees the broken emptiness. He was collapsing under the weight of the person he had become. Dust choked in his veins, blood coated his hair, his skin turned to leather.

She presses her lips against his, that familiar searching feeling inside of her. Jax takes hold of her arms first and she thinks he will leave bruises. Then he kisses her back, harsh and insistent.

And when he moves inside of her, pressing himself in as far as he can go, like he's trying to invade her, or break past the cage of his skin and into hers, she stares at the ceiling for a long time, scared of what this will bring and at the same time welcoming it.


	4. stains

The next day she wakes up alone.

She vaguely remembers the jostling of the bed, blinking into the darkness as the weight left beside her.

Jax had left in the night and she had no idea whether it was club business or not. But either way it left her feeling hollow - the heavy ice of disappointment flooding through her as she sat up, clutching the sheets to cover her naked body despite the fact she was alone.

The she notices he had propped her sketchpad up against the lamp on the bedside table. All it said was 'club business' in large scrawling letters. She could see impressions and smudges of his fingerprints where the charcoal had stained him. She imagines the black powder coating his fingers, seeping into the lines there, and wonders if it will remind him of her.

She decides it means something that he at least tried to tell her why he had left.

Tara gets up, tired and aching limbs trudging slowly to the bathroom.

Brushing her hair back from her face she lets out a calming sigh and examines herself in the mirror, the sickly light of the motel bathroom making her look drawn and pallid.

She is surprised she didn't look different. She doesn't know why. She feels like the ink of his tattoos should have sunk into the cracks of her skin.

She jumps suddenly as there is a knock at the door.

The thumping comes again - because it wasn't just a knock - it was a bang. It was a shake that could have knocked the door down.

She scrambles for clothes as she rushes over - pulling on underwear and a t shirt as fast as she can. She pauses before opening the door - the sick scared feeling chruning in her stomach. 

"Tara! Open up!" she hears from the other side of the door. It's Jax's voice, and she feels it like he's stood right next to her.

She wrenches the door open breathlessly.

Jax is there, dishevelled. His white t shirt is covered in blood, violent red smeared right through the samcro logo.

"Are you hurt?" She cries upon seeing it. "What happened?"

Jax just shakes his head and grabs her arm, dragging her out of the motel room.

He's pulling her forward urgently, quickly, ignoring her questions and trying to escape his grip. She remembers she's only in a t shirt and underwear and starts looking round self consciously, trying and failing to pull the shirt down just a little further. When nothing works she stops walking, forcing Jax to stop too and he spins angrily to face her.

Over his shoulder she sees a conspicuous black van in the parking lot. For a single instant everything stops and she becomes sure that for whatever reason, he is going to kill her. The time between this thought flickering awake in her mind and him speaking is like an eternity. And in that eternity she knows she doesn't want to die, does want any longer to be still.

"We need your help." He yells and this time he is able to pull her with him again because her sudden fear had paralysed her into submission. 

"Why?" She frowns at him. "Why do you need me?" Her voice is shaking and the wind is whipping at her bare legs painfully.

"You're a doctor!" He replies sardonically, getting impatient.

They had reached the ban now and he pulls the doors open, pushing her in front of him.

 

She had been pushed into the small chaotic space, crouching over a groaning, blood stained man. The smell of it fills her nostrils, leather and dirt fill the air too. It was suffocating in the extreme as she elbowed her way into the mass of the samcro members in the back of the van.

It had been less chaotic once they got to the clubhouse.

She had been ready to rush in and help the fallen club member - But as she enters the club house, funnelled in with the mass of men like a flood - she stops. In the middle of the clubhouse she sees a room to the side, a table with a gavel.

As a doctor she treated everyone impartially. But what did she owe this club? Nothing, that's what. If anything they owed her for keeping quiet about the things she had seen. Maybe she would help Jax - because he was him and he had moved against her, heavy and real, fending of the darkness with the pads of his fingers.

She feels him placing a hand on her arm again but she wrenches away from him quickly. She can't bare his touch - so savage now, when she had felt the softness of it last night. She can't look at him as she speaks.

"I don't know if I can..." She trails off, like she can't control herself, like she can't even force the words from herself, like she is collapsing inwardly.

She spins round to face him in a panic then. She doesn't know what she wants, what she is searching for on his face. But she suddenly feels like she is drowning, here in the lions mouth.

Jax doesn't tell her it will be ok. Doesn't tell her they can get someone else. Doesn't ask her 'please'. He sets his jaw, in that way he has that lets her know he's thinking, the gears of his mind working quickly, deciding how he's going to deal with this.

Then he pulls out his gun.

Tara gasps in a frenzy of hysterical fear, staggering back from him.

His eyes close briefly, like he knew she was going to do that. Like this was a chore he would do even though it pained him. She almost expected him to say 'this hurts me more than it hurts you' in the same way a patronizing parent would placate their sniffling child before punishing them.

But he doesn't. He just takes hold of her, steering her into the back room, the gun biting into her temple, her heart in her throat.

"You need to save him." He says simply. "The only reason you are still alive is because I vouched for you." His voice is blank, terrifying in its emptiness. It's like he's reading from a script he knew by heart. "But if you don't at least try to save him, these guys won't have a problem taking you out. I won't like it - Tara - " just the single tremor of emotion when he says her name. "I won't like it. But I will let them. Do you understand?"

They are stood by the table now, her patient bleeding out on it. Tara hears all his words as if from far away. She had imagined him as half a person - Well this was the other half. Maybe the truer half. She nods blankly, squeezing tears from her eyes that feel like they're burning her face.

Her hands tremble at first. But soon she begins to work and the comforting familiarity of the movements soothe her. She begins to issue orders and the men watch her, crowded all around, staring like she's moving in mysterious ways they cannot fathom. But to her it is simple. She knows all the steps, and when she finishes with the bullet wound she feels triumphant. 

Tara suddenly remembered why she liked being a doctor, how good she was at it. The impressed looks on peoples faces when she told them what she did. The feeling of a human heart beating under her fingers.

And she misses it, finally.

 

She scrubs at the blood on her hands, watching the red water trickle down the drain. She'd locked herself in the bathroom when she's finished, ignoring Jax trying to thank her.

She scoffed. Thanking her for what he'd forced her to do in the first place. He was ridiculous. But she comes to realise that he didn't even realize. It was just how his mind worked. Violence lived inside of him. It was a second skin, default reaction. And it was no harm, no foul as far as he was concerned. He had not hurt her, had not let anyone hurt her, so he had moved on.

There is a soft knock on the door. She knows she can't hide in here forever.

But she also knew now that she wanted to go home. Not just her motel, home home. Jax was never going to stop being who he was. He had told her he didn't know how, and it was true. She understood that now. He has chosen his home a long time ago, and it wasn't her, as much as both of them wanted it to be. She can't open herself to that kind of violence. She can't open herself to someone who didn't know how to be with someone.

She lets out a heavy breath and for the first time in a while she feels control. She feels clear. She slides the lock open slowly and steps back to let the door creak open.

She looks up at Jax defiantly as he leans on the door way, peering up apologetically from under his eyelashes, wide blue eyes like a little puppy dog.

She folds her arms, waiting for him to speak.

"I found these...I don't know if they're your size but..."

He holds a pair of jeans out to her, and she takes them warily. They were too long, she noted as she pulled them on. They didn't quite fit, but hung baggy on her hips. Almost fit, but not quite. She imagines them like they are charming itself, and she not quite belonging there.

Jax opens his mouth to speak but she shakes her head, cutting him off with a single angry look.

"Please. Don't." She snaps. "I just...want to go home. Take me home...if your letting me go, that is." She adds pointedly.

Jax closes his eyes for a moment before nodding.

 

She cannot feel what she had for him the night before.

She's stood next to his bike, just like the first time he had taken her home. But the way she looks at him now is like from a distance. She can finally see all the parts of him, just like she learnt to see the many parts of herself. And she knows now, seeing those jigsaw jumbles of people, that she can walk away from him. Maybe if she had known him earlier, when he wasn't so stained with the darkness, she could have loved him. Maybe if she knew him before he grew up in a storm, before rage entered his veins and clogged them up with fire, she could have saved him. But it seemed almost impossible to her now. Maybe this whole thing would help him though. But he had to be the one to reach the decision to leave, if he was ever going to.

"I'm going to go home." She says quietly and he nods like he'd expected it.

"And I'm guessing you won't come back." He says. Her silence is answer enough and he nods solemnly. "You could you know. If you wanted to. I know I've said some things...but I'd keep you safe...Or I'd try, at least."

She sighs and moves towards him to kiss his cheek. 

He turns his face to hers and kisses her lips and she lets him, trying to press all of her gratitude and affection into a single movement. When they part, she presses her forehead against his.

"Jax, I think you could be a good man. A good father. I think you have that in you somewhere. You are loyal, and you feel things so deeply. But I'm scared of who you'll become if you stay here. I can't tie myself to that man."

She places a hand on his cheek and he leans into the touch, saddened by her words but knowing the truth of them.

"I hope one day you find your way out. I hope you get Abel out. And...if you do, maybe you can pay me a visit."

Jax watches her walk away, she knows because he doesn't start his engine. She doesn't turn back though. No more looking back, only forward. 

She's going home. Knowing herself, knowing what she did and didn't want. She only hoped Jax could learn to do the same, one day.

And he can't see how much she's smiling at that thought.


End file.
